give you mine? See, mine are neat, and this sash is very handsome. Will
you have them? Do. I am so anxious to play at being a gypsy."

The girl turned and stared. Annie's pretty blue print and gay sash were
certainly tempting bait. She glanced at her father.

"The little lady wants to change," she said in an eager voice.

The man nodded acquiescence, and the girl taking Annie's hand, ran
quickly with her to the bottom of the field.

"You don't mean it, surely?" she said. "Eh, but I'm uncommon willing."

"Yes, I certainly mean it," said Annie. "You are a dear, good, obliging
girl, and how nice you will look in my pretty blue cotton! I like that
striped petticoat of yours, too, and that gay handkerchief you wear round
your shoulders. Thank you so very much. Now, do I look like a real, real
gypsy?"

"Your hair ain't ragged enough, miss."

"Oh, clip it, then; clip it away. I want to be quite the real thing. Have
you got a pair of scissors?"

The girl ran back to the tent, and presently returned to shear poor
Annie's beautiful hair in truly rough fashion.

"Now, miss, you look much more like, only your arms are a bit too white.
Stay, we has got some walnut-juice; we was just a-using of it. I'll touch
you up fine, miss."

So she did, darkening Annie's brown skin to a real gypsy tone.

"You're a dear, good girl," said Annie, in conclusion; and as the girl's
father called her roughly at this moment, she was obliged to go away,
looking ungainly enough in the English child's neat clothes.

CHAPTER XLI.

DISGUISED.

Annie ran out of the field, mounted the stile which led into the wood,
and stood there until the gypsy man and girl, and the boy with the
donkey, had finally disappeared. Then she left her hiding-place, and
taking her little gingham bag out of the long grass, secured it once more
in the front of her dress. She felt queer and uncomfortable in her new
dress, and the gypsy girl's heavy shoes tired her feet; but she was not
to be turned from her purpose by any manner of discomforts, and she
started bravely on her long trudge over the dusty roads, for her object
was to follow the gypsies to their next encampment, about ten miles away.
She had managed, with some tact, to obtain a certain amount of
information from the delighted gypsy girl. The girl told Annie that she
was very glad they were going from here; that this was a very dull place,
and that they would not have stayed so long but for Mother R